Tag: God

What God Does with Some of My Days

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Today I told God to do anything he wanted with my schedule. I have found this is always a good idea.

Today I walked to Walmart and wandered around, looking for seeds, a screw eye, and milk. I found all three. It was entertaining as usual.

A new addition at Walmart – signs of our time.

Today I installed the screw eyes on the sides of my patio. I attached ratchet straps to them and fastened my awning down so it won’t rip off and fly away.

Today, while getting tools for the above project, I found a jar of screws and odd gadgets that came from mom’s garage when she moved. I have my own jar like that so I combined them and got rid of a not needed jar. I straightened my tools while I was there.

Today I found an ugly cup holding pens and pencils, and was going to dispose of it. I thought better of that and scrubbed the ugly pink and black decal off the cup and put the pens in another pen holder. It’s not a bad cup.

The not bad cup.

Today I planted the seeds I bought so that later this summer I will have a pot of cherry tomatoes and some cucumbers. I moved my raised planters to get better sunlight.

Seeds in the sun, bright orange strap holding my awning down.

Today I had trouble closing one of my kitchen drawers and had to clean and re-arrange the things in it. The electric knife was in the drawer and I remember that the blades wouldn’t eject when I wanted to use it. I spent an hour figuring out what was wrong, fixed and cleaned it and back in the drawer it went.

Clean drawer

Today I emailed some friends and cancelled a biking trip that was scheduled for Thursday. It’s most likely going to be raining that day. I don’t like to bike in the rain.

Today, since I’m not going biking this week, I took my twin bikes to the shop to be made clean and safe. They will be used a lot this summer and need some love.

Today I washed last year’s ants out of the hummingbird feeder, made some sugar water to go in it, and hung it out where the hummingbirds can find it.

Today I talked with my auto insurance adjuster and made an appointment at the auto body shop to fix my car’s tailgate. I ran into something last week and I like my car too much to leave it with that rather large dent.

Today I made arrangements for my next visit to Gwennie Ru and contacted my favorite people who let me rest at their homes on the way.

The day is not over yet. Although I haven’t done anything of great importance, there were numerous small things that were satisfying, restful, and worth doing. I won’t question God’s decisions about my day. He knew I needed a day with sunshine and small successes. It was a good day.

Unaware

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This whole week has a very strange feel to it. GwennieRu is her usual baby self, responding with smiles and interest in everything around her, blissfully unaware, looking perfectly beautiful.

We who have a little more knowledge about surgery and what it entails are less blissful. I am looking at her, drinking in every detail of her sweetness, and more aware of how thankful I am for her, and for this time with her. While I have no reason to expect anything but a good outcome from her procedure, I am so aware of the complexity of it, so aware of the skill needed and the vigilance required… that knowledge alone makes every minute with her special, including diaper changes and fusses and spit ups. All of it.

I feel the same angst coming from her parents as they have video conferences with the surgeon and the anesthesiologist. One thing we talk about is how the messages of support and prayer keep pouring in from friends and family. Many have dealt with similar uncertainties and various kinds of outcomes. It is good to hear that they have been able to walk the path God laid out for them. It is good to hear that they consider our request for prayer as a mandate, a job that they are glad to do for us. They join us as we go into this experience. They acknowledge that God is present and watching over Gwennie. I don’t know how people get through life without a belief that someone better than us is in charge. Times like this show us that so clearly.

This week, some ladies in Julia and Kevin’s church gave me and the other Shirley grandma (yes there are two of us) large gift bags full of things to help us in the surgery waiting room. I dare not eat all that they gave me on my Lumen low carb diet, but the thought was clearly expressed that they understand. A book to read, and reminders of scripture promises help me to know where my thoughts should be directed.

As sometimes happens, when we need it least, the trouble of sickness adds to an already critical time. One of Julia’s coworkers came down with covid. Our exchange student is suddenly beset with sore throat and cold symptoms. We are disinfecting everything and trying to avoid germs. Every time we feel a cough or a sneeze we wonder if we’re getting a virus that will complicate things on Thursday. Kevin doesn’t feel 100% well, and this morning Gwennie is a little “snuffly”. This too is something God knows.

Someday it will be important for GwennieRu to read this and know how she was cherished by God and her people. But for now, one more day of waiting and then, the day of surgery.

The Arm Around My Shoulder

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They were walking together, away from me, toward their car. They were talking as they went, and he put his arm around her shoulder and leaned in a bit. They laughed.

Sitting at the restaurant, they were talking again with some affectionate teasing in progress. There was a moment of silence as they looked at each other, and then they leaned toward each other for a quick kiss.

Those are the kind of moments I miss. I have to admit that it’s not only since my husband has died that I miss those kinds of interactions. I knew my husband loved me but those particular gestures were not his style. He blessed me in other ways, and to be fair, I probably never gave him a clear ask for the things I missed.

Now that there is no one to ask, I’m more aware of my desire to be on a team with someone who loves me. I love teamwork. I enjoy being valued for my contributions. I want to be loved and enjoyed just because I’m on the team, being myself, contributing or not.

In this phase of my life, I’m paying more attention to what my chosen belief system says about being alone, as a widow. The references to widowhood in my instruction manual jump out at me. I underline them and do serious thinking about them.

“A father of the fatherless and a judge and protector of the widows, is God in His holy habitation. God makes a home for the lonely…”

“But he will establish and protect the boundaries of the widow.”

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

My question is, how would someone of the spirit world put his arm around someone of the mortal world? How would that look? How should someone in the mortal world look at someone in the spirit world and then offer a kiss? How is it possible to have that kind of relationship with someone you can’t physically see, hear or touch? Can it possibly be as satisfying as a physical relationship? Could it be more satisfying?

I am in a relationship with God. Unlike the way I did it with my husband, I’m clearly asking Him for those signs – that arm around the shoulder, those inside jokes, the teamwork kiss. My goal going forward, is to notice how he responds. I want to be part of the team and learn how to love him back.

THE ARM AROUND MY SHOULDER

This week I needed to finish up my yearly car registration. It was complicated by needing to change my license plate from light truck to passenger car. I had tried to do it online the year before but couldn’t find the path to doing it and ran out of time. This year I had an online form filled out, ready to mail in, but was troubled by being required to send the title to my car out, with the form, to some government office where it would probably sit for weeks.

On a whim, I decided to stop in to the local DMV to ask if this was normal procedure. It was a Monday when that office is usually swamped, with long lines, and grumpy people waiting their turn. As I drove up, I saw no cars in the parking lot and was about to leave thinking they were closed. There was no notice on the door and it was open. I walked in and, for the first time in my life for any DMV I’ve ever visited, there was no one else in the office other than two clerks behind the counter, waiting for me.

I explained my situation and the lady kindly told me that she would be able to solve that for me right there. Both of the clerks worked through the process together and in 10 minutes I walked out with a new license plate and registration paid through January 2025. It’s a license plate I have already been able to memorize because it has my age in it. How sweet.

It’s time to lean in. Just sayin’…

No longer falsely labeled.

Thoughts in the Night

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So many thoughts come when I’m awake at night, usually waiting for a headache to resolve, praying because I cannot sleep. Those times are not necessarily bad, even very sweet once in a while.

People come to my mind, one after the other, and I realize how rich my life is with a wide variety of friends. Circumstances come to mind and I realize how complex the world is. Everywhere there are situations that make people suffer and cry. Some say that God, if there is such an entity, should step in and make it different. I’ve read in the Bible that it was different once, and the people of that time chose to trust their own decisions instead of the wise instructions they’d been given. Turns out that has been a prevailing trend ever since.

I’m amazed that there is so much hope, beauty, encouragement left in the world and it often steps into view when we need it most. That is not an accident. It’s the plan, to lead us back to the way it was, eventually. No one but an all powerful God is going to bring about a world that we will all want to live in. It’s too far beyond any world leader or government. I am encouraged because I see evidence of his forethought and control everywhere in nature. The question becomes, how then shall I wait?

What hope do you have if you cannot imagine there is a God who could be wise enough to solve our problems, who could dissolve the anger and hate in hearts, who could comfort the inconsolable and bring justice to both sides of every equation?

It is arrogance to think that because we cannot imagine something, it cannot exist. Our search should be for a better, more faith filled imagination.

There is more beauty this fall than I remember seeing, ever. Maybe it is just because I am driving through miles and miles of it nearly every day. It puts me in awe and strengthens me for the coming months of winter.

Northwoods Journal: Changes

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Hi from a friend’s house in Duluth, Minnesota. She lets me stay in “my room” when I’m too tired to drive home.

Back several weeks ago, in July, we were getting ready for our family reunion, enjoying walks like the one in my last post, and having a great summer. And then the husband had a stroke, a cerebral vascular hemorrhage (CVA). He has survived but our lives have changed, a lot.

Since then, most of what I’ve written has gone in a separate blog, one that tells the story of our experience since his diagnosis of Lewy Body Dementia. I won’t tell it again here, but in summary, we now have first hand knowledge of ICU’s, ventilators, tracheostomies, feeding tubes, and several other things that the husband never wanted to know about.

Hi, I’m the husband. My real name is Dennis and this is Occupational Therapy at Miller Dwan Rehab, the nicest place I ever wanted to get out of.

This is the first day in five weeks that I’ve been home all day. Dennis is in a rehab hospital now, a really good place, and making progress slowly. I felt he would be okay if I didn’t see him every day. The hospital is in Duluth, 90 miles away, and I’ve grown a little weary of the drive. I’m often in the car eating things I shouldn’t eat, just to stay awake – a bag of popcorn can last nearly 70 miles if I don’t spill too much of it.

Although I have wonderful support from friends and family, these changes leave me feeling physically alone quite often. Fortunately, I am spiritually befriended. God is such a friend. Jesus is such a friend. I took a walk this evening, kind of like the one in my last post, on the wetlands trail and saw evidence of my friends. It was almost like things were being pointed out, to look at, to talk about and enjoy. And I took pictures, of course.

All by itself in the middle of a nicely mowed field
Hello
She looked and then went on eating.
Sunset coming on.
Like fire in the sky.
Clouds, not mountains, in the east and in the water.

It’s September now. August was surreal, hard, and so different from anything we have known. We have yet to find out what our new normal will be. But it’s coming, and it will be okay.

Does My Heart Have Ears?

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My heart has heard you say, “Come and talk with me.” And my heart responds, “Lord, I’m coming.” Psalm 27:8

I’m thinking about that question, “does my heart have ears?” I think it does.

I was walking one evening this week, feeling thankful for a chance to get out where it was quiet, feeling the rhythmic, somewhat stumbling way my feet were hitting the uneven ground, feeling like the open sky was listening. I was thinking (because it’s too hard not to think) about all the decisions of the day, all the possible responses to upcoming events, and processing, processing.

I felt like I heard in my spirit the suggestion that I talk about all those things – like, just speak them out. So I did that, and as I got into it more, it didn’t feel terribly weird. It felt like I was being listened to. It was easy to credit God with that – it had sounded like his voice, and no one else was around.

Being “Right” Comes Full Circle.

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(It has been suggested by the husband that I write this to his daughters.)

We were reading a thoughtful paragraph on humility this morning, referencing people who are always right about anything and everything. Dennis laughed and said something that our youngest daughter had said to him once. “I am right, because I am a Dietz!” It was said tongue in cheek and they laughed at it at the time too. Then he got quiet and continued, “I love our daughters so much. I hope they know that.”

It was a special moment and we continued talking about the meaning of that conversation and why the memory of it sparked such gratitude and love inside his “dad heart”.

During the years our daughters were growing up at home there were so many good times for us as parents and for them as children. There were also times, not so good, when they felt distanced from their parents. The role of provider was always of high concern for Dennis, and required a lot of his attention. Maybe small people (children), having limited experiences, were not as interesting as other friends and business associates. He never intentionally conveyed this to them, but it was conveyed nonetheless.

In addition it was natural to assume that children’s opinions, reasons, and thought processes were still to be directed and molded, not listened to and considered. This attitude also was never intentionally spoken, nor was it applied 100% of the time, but over the years it was felt, sometimes acutely. Although Dad provided well and loved them, he didn’t know them personally and was often clueless as to what they were feeling. Perhaps they heard more of “don’t leave toothpaste in the sink” and “your lights were left on – go turn them off” than the things daughters need to hear from their dads.

So what does it mean when a daughter can tease, laugh and point out some hurtful flaw when talking to her dad? What did it mean that she could remind him of that “always right” attitude in a gentle conversation (well, I don’t actually know how gentle it was or what it was about because I wasn’t there…)? To him, it meant forgiveness. It meant that she wasn’t afraid to remind him of that proclivity of his. It was acknowledgement and grace extended. And it was love.

The husband has mellowed so much in the last few years. Retirement has put the distraction of being a provider behind him. He fully realizes those things he has missed by not being more aware, more curious, more persistent about knowing his children. He has also been diagnosed with a heartbreaking condition. But it has turned into a blessing. It’s almost as if his heart had to be broken in order for him to know what was in it. It’s amazing to think about.

Although he is disabled, he has traveled long distances to see each of his two daughters get married, during pandemic times. He would not have missed these opportunities for the world. “Being right” has come full circle and is now much more like “Being in love.”

It provides hope for us all. We can grow, learn, change. The whole story doesn’t have to be pretty for the outcome to be good. God be praised for his transforming power, his gentleness and his wisdom, and his mysterious ways.

Hope for Things Thought Dead

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What is the story here? I can see it plainly, but I never know how plain it is to others – we are all products of our past thoughts and experiences and it can make such a difference in our outlooks.

Last fall I put these amaryllis bulbs in the garage for their winter dormancy period. Their long leaves flopped over, turned yellow and dried up. They got no water, very little light, and no attention. One of them started pushing up a new leaf during the winter but there was no chance of it surviving and I worried about the untimely appearance. They were all dead looking, didn’t seem very stable or rooted in their pots, and were soft like they might be rotting. Nothing hopeful about them.

And then they came to life, like so many things do in the spring. Tips of the new leaves were barely visible in the dead layers of brown wrappings. I didn’t know if the early started would start again a second time, but it did. It was much later than the others and seems a bit tattered but it’s alive.

For me, it’s all about the hope that is built into creation that dead things come to life. It’s one of those plainly seen reminders of the intentions of our Creator. Seeing how life is embedded into the DNA of plants and trees and animals of all kinds, I can’t imagine that it isn’t also built into us. I do believe there is a creator God and that he’s telling me on a regular yearly schedule, that he is all about restoring, making new, and starting over, no matter how unlikely it might look to me. I love the sound of that and the spirit behind it.

Funny thing, once I started believing that God was sending me personal messages through things I could see and touch, things he created for my environment, he became real and personal to me. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in science. Science is a process by which we study our world. But science is not a creator. Science is still looking for a creator.

I’m enjoying this season. I’m watching for green grass to come up through the dead, matted fields. I’m watching for the geese to come to the marsh to make nests. I’m looking at the lilac twigs to see how far along the buds are. I’m watching the sunrise shift rapidly from south to north on the horizon. There is nothing dead that doesn’t have some hope attached to it and it all feels very personal, now that I’ve decided it is.

A Story for the New Year

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“When you ask God for something, when you put the matter in God’s hands, you must then be aware that what happens is his doing and he deserves credit.” My paraphrase of something I heard Joyce Meyer say.

We have spent many days readying our friend’s house for sale. The friends are in Florida now, and expected to come back and live in the house in the summers – be snowbirds. That plan changed. The house was put up for sale and a cash contract came within two weeks. The house was very full of twenty years of shopping trips (they were collectors) and a home daycare business that required many toys, children’s clothes, videos, DVD’s. We knew they couldn’t return to empty the house and we were willing to do it for them. My brother and I, and even Mom, have spent many hours sorting, and dispersing things.

Earlier this week we had two strong, young men helping us take furniture from the upper story of the house down into the garage. One of them came down to me as I was working in the basement and handed me $500 and an envelope with a card in it. “We found this when we removed a drawer from the dresser. This envelope had $500 in it.”

I was elated. The owner of the dresser (soon to be 95 years old) had asked me to search carefully in those drawers because she had a “feeling” that she was missing some money, had perhaps hidden it and forgotten where. I had looked in the drawers but had not taken them out.

I opened the envelope to see who the card was written to and found another five hundred dollar bills! I texted the owner, shaking my head and laughing about this crazy, but happy discovery. I put the bills in my front pack. The card was too big so I discarded it in one of the many trash bags being filled. I went about the rest of the day in the house, to the store, to the thrift shop, outside to get the mail, in and out of the truck numerous times. I often reached in my pack to get keys or credit card. Mentally, I was aware of having a lot of money in my possession.

That evening as I took the money out to a safer place, I was mystified to find only $500, not $1,000. I did all the usual purse and pocket and car searches, and finally went back to the house hoping to find the card. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention and had left money in the card? I dug through bags of trash and finally found the card but it had no money with it. I went to the store (Walmart) and asked. My prayer was “Lord, if I dropped that money without noticing would you please provide an honest person who had to turn it in.” I figured it would have to be the Lord’s doing if that happened. But it was not at Walmart, although I got a great deal of sympathy from the lady at the service desk.

Zeb prays too.

I told my brother and asked if he had seen the money and picked it up. He had not. Discussing the situation with him, and with Mom, I began to wonder if there really was $1000 or if I was seeing the same $500 twice. There was so much going on, so many interruptions. If some of the $1000 had fallen out, why would there be exactly half of it left? Why not $300, or $600? I started to doubt what I had seen and done, and honestly that bothered me the most.

However, I decided that having prayed and asked God to help me, I would just let him help in whatever way he wanted to. I wasn’t finding the money but I had told my friend that she had $1000 coming and that’s what she was going to get. I made up the difference from my own funds. I didn’t stop wondering what had happened, but I didn’t stress out like I normally would over that amount of money.

Today I went out to my vehicle to get my water bottle and saw, on the floor of the backseat, a bank money holder with my friend’s writing on it. In it was $500.

Right away I thanked God for letting me know I was not going crazy (yet). And now I’m thanking him for the lesson in trust. I didn’t know that the money would be found, because I have lost things dear to me that haven’t been found (yet, again). But I’m learning to trust God’s ability to take care of situations in ways I can’t think of. He can take care of me, and of other people effortlessly, and money is not even a consideration.

Just like saying thank you is always important, it is doubly important when I know I have asked for help. Credit where credit is due is a biblical principle that I love and adhere to. I find it in the words “in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your path” Proverbs 3:6

I’m still wondering, and would love to see a replay of how that money got where I found it. But I am content for now to acknowledge God’s goodness, his ability to teach effectively and possibly his sense of humor. Thanks God, just sayin’…

Waving Goodbye

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It’s kind of a rule with some, that you wave goodbye until the people leaving can’t see you anymore.

It’s 2020, the year of the pandemic and other notable events. Our “pod” as I’ve come to label it, has been decreased by four significant persons. With that comes the strangeness of loss, and of uncertainty. What is life going to be like with all these changes?

Our small community consisted of my mom, my brother Dennis and his wife, their two children, myself and the husband. It expanded when my sister-in-law’s parents moved into a newly built house down the street. My brother designed it as a retirement home for him and his wife- for “someday”. But for now it was going to be convenient for Mary Pat’s parents to be close, so she and Dennis could help them when needed.

Unfortunately, it was Mary Pat who needed the help. Breast cancer returned with a vengeance. It has been only eight months, and now she is gone. It has been a difficult last few weeks. Both sides of our families have gathered to help and to mourn. Houses have been full. Schedules have been disrupted, and it was hard. She was at home when she died and we were with her. It was a little like waving goodbye until she could no longer see us.

Our pod also included a trio of women who we call “the sisters”. They have become like family to us over the last 25 years, included in our family reunions, our weekly sabbath gatherings, and countless festive occasions. Michelle is the elder sister, being almost 94. Judith and Susan are in their 60’s now, adopted as young children from Vietnam. Retiring from their daycare business led them to buy a house in a warmer climate and they have been planning their move for months, it seems.

Our “pod” plus a few extra visiting family members.

Nevertheless, there has been a lot of stressful preparation during this last week before their trip. They left this morning, with another one of my brothers driving a Penske truck loaded with the things they needed to set up housekeeping. Moving is always a big, stressful affair, especially when you have been a long time in one place. It is safe to say that the week’s work has left us all tired and a bit emotional. We are praying they have a safe trip. We waved goodbye this morning.

I know I will recover, but right now I am somewhat disoriented. There has been so much to do in so short a time. I didn’t feel like writing even if I’d had the time, which I didn’t. I move toward simple tasks, with clear cut goals that take my mind to a different place for a period of time; organizing a closet, doing a puzzle, cleaning the kitchen, taking a walk.

Life in 2020 has not been what any of us expected, and certainly not what I expected for my family. It has been an exercise of faith, and like most exercise, it has been strenuous. It doesn’t always feel good while it is happening, but there is a sense of it being worthwhile and useful. I have felt God’s watchfulness and his care in many ways. He has listened to my questions and complaints, and received my anger, confusion and exhaustion with great patience. I have felt loved.

I hear you, Mary Pat. You weren’t afraid and I won’t be either!

This is one of my favorite pictures of Mary Pat that was handed out at her memorial. It is testimony to her faith in God’s goodness, and mine as well. When you know God is good and in charge, there is no need to be dominated by feelings of fear. The crazy weirdness of 2020 becomes opportunity to exercise faith, grow stronger in trust, and remain hopeful. That’s where I’m at. I will not be afraid, just sayin’…